


Morgenstern Pride

by onemanbellarmy



Series: Morgenstern Pride [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Morgenstern twins, Sibling Fluff, clace, minor Malec
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemanbellarmy/pseuds/onemanbellarmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know," Sebastian said thoughtfully, "I think the teachers have a name for us."</p><p>"All of us?" Clary asked. "Like, us and the Lightwoods and Simon, or…?"</p><p>"No, just the four of us. I mean, you and Izzy and Simon are probably something along the lines of 'those troublemakers'"—she stuck out her tongue at him; he did the same—"but the four of us, we're the Quartet."</p><p>"The Quartet," Jace repeated. "Sounds classy."</p><p>"Well, 'Marauders' is already taken," Clary mused. "So unless we want to go full-on nerdy reference…"</p><p>Jace shuddered at the idea. "Let's go with 'The Quartet.'"</p><p>In later years, they would remember that discussion,  if not in so many words, and in any case the name stuck.</p><p>(A high school AU with Clary, her older brothers Jonathan and Sebastian, and their best friend Jace as the populars. Simon, Izzy, Alec, and Magnus also make fairly frequent appearances.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elementary School

_The twins’ first day of school_

A soft thud echoed in the hallway. Jonathan froze, his hand hovering over the waffles on his plate; Sebastian looked around for the source of the noise. Their mother turned from the kitchen counter and the waffle iron to see what was going on.

Still in pajamas with adorable bedhead, Clary stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hugging a small box to her chest.

“What are you doing up so early, Clary?” Sebastian asked.

“I have something for you.” Sleepy green eyes looked from one twin to the other anxiously, as if not sure how her present would be received, before she busied herself with the latch of her treasure box. “I found them at the craft store. Wanted to wish you luck.”

Jonathan scoffed—he was always the one who tried to play it cool—but Jocelyn could see the relief in his eyes as his baby sister approached the table to set down her mystery offering.

Her brothers crowded in to look. Three keychains lay inside, each with a small plastic letter and a painted metal charm: a lime green C and a set of binoculars, a blue S and a tennis ball, a red J and a baseball. Each, of course, corresponded to one of the Morgenstern siblings and their interest.

Though he didn’t exactly say thank you, the grin on Jonathan’s face was reward enough for his sister as he plucked his from the box, clumsy five-year-old fingers struggling to clip it a zipper of the new backpack their mother had picked for him. (He hadn’t cared, really, what kind of backpack he ended up with; since he had been participating in so many sports camps, Jocelyn had finally given up and gone to the store without him.)

Sebastian remembered his manners better—he always did—and managed a quick “Thanks” as he held out the keychain and his backpack to their mother, silently asking her to attach it for him. She did so with a smile. Though he’d spent what seemed like hours trying to pick a backpack, Sebastian was really the easier child; he was easygoing and humble enough to ask for help whenever he needed it.

Wordlessly she reached over to her older son, nimble fingers easily accomplishing what his could not. (Yet.) Then she turned to her daughter. “What about you, Clary?”

The little girl frowned for a moment, thinking. She didn’t have a school backpack yet, since it would be two years before she needed one—but she did have a small pack of her own, in which she kept paper, crayons, and binoculars. Realizing that her pack had zippers like her brothers’ backpacks, she ran down the hall to retrieve it.

Still smiling, Jocelyn fastened the keychain for her daughter. When she looked up, Clary had turned those big green eyes—Jocelyn’s own eyes—on her.

“I wanna come.”

“Sweetie, you know you’re not old enough to go to school with Jonathan and Sebastian.” Noting the tears welling up in Clary’s eyes and anticipating the tantrum that was sure to follow, Jocelyn hastened to add, “But you can ride in the car. Okay?”

“Okay!” All trace of tears clearing up immediately, Clary grinned and climbed into her seat at the table, reaching for the plate of waffles in the middle.

* * *

 

_Two years later: Clary’s first day of school_

Juggling his briefcase, laptop, and notepad, Valentine Morgenstern got up from the breakfast table. “I’m off to work. You three have a good day at school—bring honor to the Morgenstern name, yeah?” (It was a familiar if confusing command; his children had long since stopped questioning their father’s many eccentricities. He was often up for a game, when he was home; that was all that really mattered.)

“Okay, Daddy,” Clary chirped, still circling the kitchen and admiring her new backpack and school shoes by the door. She had yet to settle down to eat breakfast.

“Sure, Dad,” Jonathan and Sebastian mumbled. In sync, of course. They’d spent so long perfecting this skill once they realized how much it disturbed and annoyed their kindergarten teacher, it had long since become a habit that they’d seen no need to change.

After a quick peck on the cheek from his wife, Valentine was off.

“Clary, honey, eat something, okay? I promise you, it’ll be a while before recess. I don’t want you to get hungry before then.”

“Recess is the best part of school,” Jonathan offered. “Everything else is boring.”

“No, it’s not,” Sebastian said. “We learn cool things in science. And there’s art.”

Suppressing a grin, Jocelyn looked over at the refrigerator door. It was adorned with all the usual elementary school works: macaroni houses, self-portraits of dubious accuracy, indecipherable scribbles with necessary captions, and the like. Among the boys’ masterpieces were some of Clary’s own—colorful, whimsical, almost forcefully cheerful depictions of the fascinating things she observed while exploring the wide world of their backyard.

She looked back at the table, where the kids were squabbling over the last waffle. “Looks like you three are ready to go. Shall we?”

* * *

 

Clary looked around the room anxiously. Now that she was finally here, she wasn’t so sure about this kindergarten thing anymore. There were so many kids in the room—fighting over blocks, looking for the desk with their nametag, standing around talking.

After saying a quick hello to Clary’s teacher—since Mrs. Herondale had been the twins’ kindergarten teacher, neither she nor Jocelyn felt compelled to stumble through the obligatory but awkward parent-first teacher introduction again—Jocelyn had left, leaving her daughter with a quick hug and an encouraging smile.

Left to her own devices, Clary was examining the basket of paints when a loud ringing noise made her jump. She’d always come along when their mother picked up the twins from school, so she knew it was the bell, but she hadn’t realized it was so loud.

“Ahem. Welcome to kindergarten.”

Everyone turned to look at the stern-looking woman standing at the front of the room.

She managed a tight-lipped smile. “If all of you would please find your seats, we’ll begin.”

Clary finally located her nametag in the middle of the very first row. She sat down, hugging her backpack for comfort. (It might have been brand-new, but it was the only familiar thing in this strange setting.) Then she noticed that everyone else had put theirs on the ground by their seats, and she did the same, remembering her brothers’ warnings not to be too different from anyone else. (“Of course we’ll beat up anyone who’s mean to you,” Jonathan had said as Sebastian nodded in agreement. “But it would be easier if we didn’t have to.”)

“Why don’t we all go around and introduce ourselves?” The teacher nodded as if to answer her own rhetorical question. “My name is Imogen Herondale, but the school insists that you call me ‘Mrs. Herondale.’ My son, Stephen, is a lawyer, so I like to do whatever I can to support him. It’s a hard job, you know. Why don’t we go around? Give us your name and your favorite thing to do.”

Though her brothers had deemed first-day introductions “boring,” Clary listened carefully, already forming judgments on the people she would be spending the next nine months with.

“I’m Simon Lewis,” said the bespectacled boy on Clary’s right. “I like video games.”

Suddenly nervous, Clary cleared her throat. “I’m Clary Morgenstern,” she began.

“Jonathan and Sebastian’s sister, aren’t you?” Mrs. Herondale suddenly cut in.

Clary nodded, trying to remember what her brothers had said about their kindergarten teacher.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, young lady. You may look more angelic than your brothers, but I know their tricks, which they’ve doubtless passed on to you. Don’t forget, I already know your parents!”

It was in that moment that Clary first realized what it meant to hate. She’d never before imagined feeling anything but respect and love for an adult; her acquaintance with that group had so far been limited to her mother, father, and Uncle Luke, all of whom were always patient and kind.

“Next,” Mrs. Herondale said, nodding at the girl on Clary’s left.

“Clary didn’t get to say her favorite thing to do,” the girl pointed out.

“Oh, all right. Clarissa, do tell us your favorite thing to do, then.”

Eyes downcast, she shrugged. “Drawing,” she said at last.

“Can we move on, then?”

Clary’s neighbor tossed a dark braid over her shoulder. “I’m Isabelle Lightwood. You might know my brother Alec.”

“Oh, you’re Alec’s sister.” Unlike the twins, Alec Lightwood apparently had not been a thorn in his teacher’s backside—at least, if Mrs. Herondale’s restored smile was any indicator. “And what do you like to do, Isabelle?”

“I like dance and gymnastics.”

As Mrs. Herondale nodded in approval and moved on, Isabelle turned to Clary. “I didn’t think she needed to be so mean to you.”

Clary nodded, trying not to let out any of the things she wanted to say about their new teacher. She didn’t like Mrs. Herondale very much, but she’d been raised to be polite. Plus, Jonathan and Sebastian had warned that teachers could send you to the principal’s office if you misbehaved; their tone had made it very clear that being sent to the principal’s office was a bad thing.

“My brother calls me Izzy,” Isabelle offered. “Wanna be friends?”

Clary smiled. Maybe kindergarten wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

 

Jace Wayland sat atop the monkey bars, swinging his legs. The playground monitor eyed him warily but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t technically breaking any rules, and it wasn’t worth getting into it with Jace (or Jonathan or Sebastian) anyway.

His amber eyes scanned the playground, lighting up as they landed on a familiar redhead. “Clary! First day, right? How do you like school so far? Hey, have you seen Sebastian?”

Izzy in tow, she walked over to join him. “Haven’t seen him. This is Izzy, by the way.”

Clary’s new friend was glaring up at the blonde. “Jace.”

“Isabelle.” He looked amused.

“You know each other?”

“We’re neighbors,” Jace explained. “And I used to be best friends with her brother Alec. Now there’s a teacher’s pet if I’ve ever met one. Speaking of—who’d you get?”

“Herondale,” Izzy piped up before Clary could answer. “Man, you should have heard her. She totally doesn’t like Clary.”

Jace grinned. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing.” At his skeptical look, Clary shook her head adamantly. “I didn’t do anything. But I think Jonathan and Sebastian—”

“You called?” There was Jonathan, running up from the handball courts. Sebastian was just a few steps behind him.

“Herondale hates me,” Clary informed them ruefully. “And I think it’s your fault.”

“More his than mine,” Sebastian said.

“You helped,” Jonathan pointed out. “Takes two to tango.”

Jace laughed. “I don’t think that’s how you use that phrase, Jon.”

“Don’t call me Jon.”

Evidently there was some tension between the two blondes. Only Sebastian seemed unaffected as he clambered up to sit beside Jace. Once he was settled, his gaze moved to his sister’s companion. “Izzy, right? Alec’s sister?”

She looked mildly surprised. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Join us,” Sebastian invited as Jonathan waved and returned to the handball tournament. “This is probably the best spot of the whole playground.”

After exchanging a quick glance, Clary and Izzy both smiled and climbed up to check it out.

* * *

 

“Who’re those girls sitting with Sebastian and Jace on the monkey bars?”

Alec spared the quartet a quick glance. “One of them’s my sister Isabelle,” he panted as he chased after the soccer ball. “I think the other’s Sebastian’s sister. I dunno her name.”

The sound of shouts rose above the usual playground din.

“Clary—” Jace began, voice placating.

“You be quiet, Jace! I want to know why Sebastian lied to me!”

They were beginning to attract attention, but the youngest Morgenstern didn’t seem to notice or care.

Sebastian looked exasperated. “I said I was sorry, Clary!”

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything, Sebastian Valentine Morgenstern!”

“Ooooooh!” came a chorus from their audience. Most of them knew Sebastian and Jonathan, at least by reputation, so of course anyone new interacting with them became a Person of Interest too. And in just seconds, the playground was abuzz.

“That’s their sister? She doesn’t look anything like them!”

“Whoa there, Sebastian, better listen to her!”

“Sebastian has a middle name?”

Jace eyed his best friend. “You never told me you had a middle name.”

Sebastian shrugged. “It’s not exactly on my list of Top Ten Things to Tell New Friends. I can add it, if you insist.”

“I do insist. How is it that I’ve known you for”—Jace paused to calculate—“a year, and this is the first I’ve heard of your middle name. And it’s a little weird, don’t you think?”

“It’s my father’s name,” Sebastian said, used to this reaction. “Jace, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still weird.”

“Says the boy who was too smart for kindergarten. You should know all about weird.”

“Being smart doesn’t make you weird,” Clary piped up. She didn’t know Jace nearly as well as her brother (though he was frequently over at their house), but it was the perfect opportunity to trot out a rather clever-sounding thing she’d overheard her mother saying once.

“See, Sebastian? Even your sister’s on my side.”

Just then the bell rang, and Clary reluctantly headed back to face another round with Herondale.  But she didn’t have long to stew since Izzy was at her side, chatting away.

* * *

_The twins and Jace’s graduation ceremony_

Most parents don't cry at their kids' fifth grade graduation, and neither do the majority of siblings of the graduates. But while Valentine and Jocelyn Morgenstern were as dry-eyed as most of the other spectators, their daughter sniffled throughout the whole thing.

As soon as the ceremony was over, the two boys hurried over. “What's wrong, Clary?” they asked with twin looks of concern. (While they were given to saying the same thing at the same time, they tended to have different reactions; this was not one of those times.)

“You're  _graduating—_ you won't be here next year!”

Slightly annoyed, Jonathan ran his finger through his overlong blond bangs—he'd pleaded their (yes, meaning his bangs') case by insisting that this was how he wanted to remember his fifth-grade year, since they (yes, his bangs) had accompanied him throughout it—while Sebastian barely sighed as he wrapped his arms tightly around his baby sister.

“Look, Clary—” the older twin began impatiently.

“You've just finished third grade, haven't you? It'll only be two years, then you'll join us at the middle school. Won't you be glad to have these two off your case for a while, kid?”

“Don't call me 'kid,' Jacae!”

“A-ha! There’s the real Clary!”

“You—!” Enraged, the redhead flew at her brother's best friend.

Laughing, he caught her as she tripped. “Careful, kid.”

“Don't call me—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But seriously, Clary… I would've thought you'd be happy to have us out of here for two years. No overprotective older brothers cramping your style, and the teachers'd probably be more likely to give you a chance if these two aren't around every day, reminding them of that painful year. But… apparently not.” He raised an eyebrow. “Care to tell why?”

“It just won't be the same,” insisted the little girl.

“Example?”

“Jace, that's—”

“The boys all make fun of me,” the little girl blurted. “They laugh, and say that I need my big brothers to hold my hand and protect me.”

“I  _knew_  I should've—”

“Calm down, Jonathan,” begged Sebastian. “Clary's right here—don't scare her like you did last time.” (“Last time” had involved a  _very scary_  pissed-off older Morgenstern boy, and several of his sister's classmates begging for their lives. Only the younger twin's intervention had kept the situation from evolving into a massacre.)

“You'll be fine,” Jace assured his best friend's sister. “Just win a coupla fights, then—” Suddenly he realized Sebastian, Clary, and Jonathan's parents were listening.  _Oops._

Though Jocelyn frowned, Valentine grinned. “That's right! Clary, just show those boys that you don't need your brothers to be your sword and shield, and they'll leave you alone.”

Doubtful as she was, the redhead dutifully nodded. “Sure, Dad.”

“Come on, I want to sit on the monkey bars one last time, for old times' sake!”

Jace hurried off after Sebastian.

“Hey, wait for me!” Crossing her arms over her chest, Clary scowled. She'd never catch up, and she knew it.

“Come on.” Jonathan knelt down.

Delightedly his sister climbed on his back, wrapping her slender arms loosely around his throat. “Love you, big brother.”

Jonathan squirmed as only a ten-year-old boy can squirm upon hearing the word ‘love.’ “Sure thing.”

* * *

_A few days later: summer vacation_

“So, I finally got Mom to take me to the craft store.”

Jonathan hit the pause button on his controller, and the boys looked up from their video game expectantly.

Clary was holding a small bag. “Got something for you guys. To, you know, celebrate your graduation.”

She carefully tipped the contents onto the floor as the boys craned to look. There was only one keychain (adorned with a gold letter J and a basketball), but there were other charms: a tree and a soccer ball.

“The keychain’s for Jace, since you don’t already have one. The tree’s for Sebastian—since you like to climb things.” The twin in question grinned, thinking back to golden afternoons spent in the tall tree in their front yard, as well as school days on the monkey bars. “And the soccer ball’s Jonathan’s.” The older twin grinned too, remembering the daily soccer matches he’d joined once handball got “too easy.”

“What about you, Clary?” Sebastian remembered to ask.

She shrugged. “I’m waiting until I graduate. Maybe I’ll get a—”

“How about we get it for you? Make it more special,” Sebastian suggested.

“Works for me.” She smiled. “So, are you guys gonna let me join you?” She flopped down onto the sofa next to Jace, who handed her a controller.

* * *

_Clary’s graduation ceremony_

“Clary, Izzy, Simon, smile!” Jocelyn snapped pictures as fast as she could—knowing that she’d only be able to hold their attention for so long before they and the boys were off—while the twins and Jace marveled over the changes that two whole years had brought to their old school.

“Damn, they replaced the monkey bars!” Jonathan nudged his brother, grinning.

“Watch your language,” Valentine warned.

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Not gonna cry at your own graduation?”

Clary looked up at a smirking Jace.

“Or did you use up all your tears at mine?”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Sure you weren’t, kid.”

She shook her head. “Even if I was—and I _wasn’t_ —it would’ve been for my brothers, asshat.”

“‘Asshat’?” Jace snickered.

“Clarissa!”

“Sorry, Dad. But that’s what Meliorn—”

“Meliorn Queen? Seelie Queen’s annoying brother?” Jonathan wanted to know.

“Yeah.” Izzy scowled.

“So _that’s_ why you two challenged him to a handball duel.” Sebastian shook his head in fond exasperation.

“Of course, if he keeps it up, he’s in for worse next year,” Jonathan said casually. “We’ll teach him a thing or two about respecting us Morgensterns.”

“On the upside, you’ll be joining us, too,” Jace reminded Clary.

She grinned. “Yup. Oh—do you guys have something for me?”

“Knew I forgot something.” At the look on her face, Jace laughed. “Just kidding. Sebastian should’ve already added it.”

Clary scrambled for her backpack, grinning when she saw the little basket that now dangled from her keychain. Long bike rides, Easter egg hunts, and her habit of collecting random objects that caught her eye on the sidewalk—the boys could hardly have done a better job of choosing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, Jonathan and Sebastian are identical twins—Jonathan's older—and Jace is Sebastian's best friend. He's a year younger than the twins, but he skipped a grade.
> 
> If you've previously read this fic on FFN, you probably know that it's a rewritten version of the original (which was first posted two years ago). My style has shifted and hopefully improved since then; I personally like this version better. Not sure yet when the next update will be; I'd like to get a few chapters done so I'll have backup for regular updates during less productive periods of time.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://sailorvegeta13.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Middle School, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early middle school fluff. Clary, Izzy, and Simon start middle school; Clary wants to date and the guys shoot her down; the Quartet gets their name.

_Clary’s first day of sixth grade_

One of the worst possible first middle school experiences is having some random girl—who, incidentally, happens to be dressed like a slut and wearing  _way_  too much makeup—immediately latch onto one of your older brothers and coo a greeting in the most nauseatingly coquettish tone you've ever heard.

As you've probably guessed, that was how Clary began her sixth-grade year: wanting to puke as she watched Seelie Queen shamelessly flirting with one of the twins.

The older girl—she'd been rejected by  _both_  twins several times already, but never seemed able to take a hint—barraged the boy with questions. It goes without saying that she didn't give him time to answer—not that he'd have wanted to anyway. “How was your summer? You didn't sleep with anyone, did you? Of course you didn't, your parents would kill you and you're mine anyway!” (Insert flirty giggle here.) “Oh, and how's your brother?” (As though he wasn’t standing right next to them.) “I really missed you this summer, Jonathan! Did you miss me?”  _Now_  she paused—most likely for breath.

“Um…” Awkwardly Clary's brother rubbed the back of his head with his free hand—the one that  _wasn't_  attached to the arm Seelie was clinging to. “Seelie, there's been a misunderstanding—”

“What are you talking about, Jonny? Of course there hasn't!”

“—because I'm Sebastian, not Jonathan,” finished the boy, pulling free. “Come on, Clary; let's go see whose homeroom you're in.”

“'Kay. You coming, Simon?”

“Huh? Uh, oh, yeah.”

“What were you looking— _Oh_.” Following her best guy friend's line of sight, Clary had seen a rather pretty dark-haired girl just entering the school. She'd walked in by herself, but she seemed to gather more boys around her with every step she took. With the way she dressed, walked, talked, smiled, and winked at the students milling about in the hallway, the Morgenstern-Wayland-Lewis group really wasn't at all surprised by the sheer number of her admirers.

“Hey,” she greeted them, walking up casually—as though she wasn’t being watched by eighty percent of the student body.  “How was your summer?”

Clary grinned at her best girlfriend. “Great. How was yours, Izzy?”

“Same old, same old. Mom and Dad dragged us off to dreary old London just like they do every year—bonding with the cousins, that kind of thing. Lot more shopping this year, though. Oh, and the Herondales were there for a lot of the summer. I think Cecily and Gabriel are a  _thing_  now.”

Already bored with the small talk, Jonathan had already disappeared. Smiling her customary coy-for-a-boy smile, Izzy turned to the remaining twin. “Hi, Sebastian.”

“Hey.” He looked vaguely amused—he was no stranger to flirting, though he was far less of a player than his twin.  “Listen, Clary—I’m supposed to be at band orientation, helping the newbies get settled in and all that, so I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you at lunch, yeah? Nice to see you again, Izzy. Simon.” And he was off.

“So what else is new?” Clary asked her friends. “Besides your look, Izzy. Which I am digging, by the way. What gives?”

She shrugged. “Cecily got her hands on my wardrobe. That girl is a fashion  _genius_ , you guys don’t even know.”

Jonathan reappeared, a small stack of papers in his arms. “Where’d Sebastian disappear off to?”

“Band,” Jace supplied.

“Of course.” Running his fingers through his hair with his free  hand, Jonathan held out the pages. “Here. Schedules.”

“You’re the best, Jonathan.” Clary rose up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, setting off a quiet round of mutters, mainly from those who didn’t already know about the Morgenstern siblings.

Noting the change in atmosphere, she turned to glare at all the onlookers. “Really?” she said out loud. “Really, guys?” She observed the unimpressed stares of the Morgenstern Twin Fanclub and sighed. “He’s my brother, okay? Lay off!”

And to her surprise, they did.

She turned to shake her head at her brother. “Didn’t Mom explicitly tell you  _not_  to make a fuss, screw whatever Dad thinks about ‘upholding the Morgenstern name’?”

He shrugged guiltily. “It was mostly Jace.”

“It was not.”

“It was, actually.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Knowing they could go on like this for hours, Clary shook her head again and turned to her friends. “You guys wanna go find our homerooms?”

They slipped their schedules from Jonathan’s pile and set off.

* * *

 

“Hey, you three, over here!” Sebastian waved from across the Quad.

The three in question exchanged a look before heading over to join the crowd of eighth-grade boys.

“Didn’t realize we were doubling the size of our group,” Alec commented.

“You have a problem with it, Lightwood?”

“Not at all, Wayland. Though I must say, I don’t think it helps my social status much to be seen eating lunch with my sister.”

“We’re eating lunch with our sister,” Sebastian pointed out.

“Yeah, but you guys are at least as cool as she is.”

“Please,” scoffed Clary. “I’m way cooler than they could ever hope to be.”

Simon scowled. “Jace really rubbed off on you over the summer, didn’t he?”

The boy in question shrugged modestly. “I’m sure Jonathan and Sebastian helped. Jonathan more, probably.”

They only grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

Alec groaned. “I’ve known you since elementary school, and I’m still not used to your twin thing.”

“I  _live_  with them,” Clary interjected, “and I’m still not used to it. Seriously, guys, it’s super creepy.”

Their grins only grew.

* * *

 

_A month later_

“Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, you're going to be late if you don't get up!” Jonathan stood in his sister's doorway, scowling at the lump under the blankets.

Without opening her eyes, the “lump” in question threw her only pillow at him. “Go away,” she mumbled. Unfortunately, it was terribly uncomfortable, lying there without a pillow. Scowling, Clary sat up. “You did that on purpose, didn't you?”

Her brother smirked. “I have no idea what you're talking about. Now hurry up and get dressed.” He scooped up her pillow—“I know you can't sleep without this, so I'm taking it”—and left. “Dad's waiting downstairs, by the way. Better not keep him waiting.”

Rolling out of bed, Clary groaned. Starting middle school had provided the adrenaline boost she needed to get out of bed every morning, but the excitement had long worn off. Once she'd discovered it was nowhere near as hard as her elementary-school teachers had warned, well, that was her invitation to start slacking off and dropping back into old— _bad—_ habits.

Not that her parents were too happy about that.

Clothes now littered the redhead's bedroom floor as she tossed them over her shoulder. “Where the heck are my  _jeans?_ ” she snarled to no one in particular.

A knock sounded on the door. “Clary!”

“God, I'm coming! Okay, Sebastian? Just—”

“I got it; I'm going.” He laughed softly as he left, knowing full well that it would be at least another ten minutes before his sister actually left her room.

* * *

 

“So,” Mr. Blackthorn began, looking around his homeroom. “I know none of us wants to be here anymore.” (Several nods of agreement.) “But the school has decreed that we continue to meet, so that I can ‘ease your transition into higher-level education.’ Since we’re here, why don’t we talk about some of the differences between elementary and middle school?” (A round of groans, which he met with a laugh.) “Okay, maybe not. In any case, the school has further decreed that I take this opportunity to address the topic of extracurriculars. I know some of you played sports or instruments into elementary school and are planning to continue, and that’s great. To the rest of you—it’s never too late to start! Middle school is a good time to explore your options and discover your passions.”

“Can you believe this crap?” Izzy whispered.

Clary  made a noncommittal noise. “Sebastian said middle school is the best thing to ever happened to him so far. I think it’s because of band—he was never all that into music, back in elementary school. But then again, he didn’t really like sports either. Mom was probably just waiting for any excuse to get him out of all the sports Dad wants him to play. I mean, he’s got Jonathan for that.”

“So you have a jock brother and an artsy musician brother?” Izzy sighed in envy. “Both of my brothers are nerds. I mean, Alec plays sports and he’s decent at them, but he’s no all-star. And then there’s Max, and I recognize that he’s five years old, but he’s only interested in his comic books.”

“Hey, don’t bash the nerd life,” Simon interjected playfully. “It’s not easy, you know. All that hard-core fanboying and gaming and geeking out over the smallest details. Making references in everyday life that no one notices or appreciates. Really, it’s quite hard.”

Izzy made a face at him. but didn’t deign to respond.

Clary patted him sympathetically on the back. “There, there, Si. It must be so hard to be so tragically misunderstood all the time.”

“It is!” He insisted.

“Simon, Clary, Isabelle. Something you’d like to share with the class?” Mr. Blackthorn looked more amused than anything else; he was an easygoing teacher and never seemed to take it personally when students talked in his homeroom. (Maybe because homeroom was a boring institution nobody liked, and he recognized that.) When none of them replied, he shrugged and let it go. “Right—you can have the rest of the period to yourselves. Talk, do homework, study. Whatever it is you guys get up to without structured classroom instructions.”

Clary pulled out her vocab flashcards; Izzy reached for the pocket-sized mirror in her backpack; Simon pulled out a comic book. Thus set for the next half hour, they settled into their regular rhythm of mixed conversation: part quizzing, part gossip, part banter.

* * *

 

_Towards the end of the year_

“No.”

“But, Jonathan —”

“Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, I said 'no' and I  _meant_  'no'.”

The redhead turned imploringly to her other brother. “Please, Sebastian?”

He ran his fingers through his bangs. “Jon—”

“Seb—” His twin mocked his tone. “Clary is not going out on a date with  _anyone_ , let alone this guy I've never met, and that's final.”

The younger twin looked at his sister. “Sorry, Clary.” He sounded more relieved than apologetic, though.

“I think it’s all for the best, kid.” (All three turned to look at Jace.) “You’re still a bit young to date, honestly. Besides—weren’t you the one who said sixth grade boys are ‘gross and immature’?”

“They still are,” she argued. “He’s a seventh grader.”

“That’s hardly any better,” Jonathan began.

Jace cut in. “How’s this, Clary—you let this go for, oh, another couple of months. If, by the start of seventh grade, you still want to date this guy, we can talk about it again. I mean, if he’s ‘the One,’ you’ll still like each other then, right?”

She frowned but couldn’t see anything fundamentally flawed in his logic. “Fine.”

He smirked, annoyingly self-satisfied.

* * *

 

_A few days later_

Clary had spent nearly half the lunch period watching Alec. “Hey, Izzy,” she said at last, still not taking her eyes off of him.

“Yeah?”

“I think Alec has a crush.”

His eyes snapped to her, his cheeks reddening. “I do not.”

“Oh, yes you do.” She smirked,  _a la Morgenstern_ as Jace liked to call it. “He’s cute.”

Izzy glanced over. “Ooooh, he is. Didn’t think he’d be your type, though, Alec—didn’t realize you were into jocks, even though you pretend to be one yourself.”

Stricken, Alec glanced around the table and seemed surprised when he met with no shock or disgust. “You—all of you guys knew?”

“You’ve been obvious for the past month or so,” Jace said, bored.

“O-only the past month?”

“Wait, are we talking about your crush or you being gay?” Izzy asked.

“I’d like to know that, too,” Alec spluttered.

Simon shrugged. “Hey, it’s cool. In case you hadn’t noticed, none of us are judging you for it. We’ve all kind of known forever. But each to his own, yeah?”

Though still slightly perplexed, Alec nonetheless looked rather relieved at this news.

* * *

 

_End of Clary’s sixth grade year_

“Talent show,” Sebastian read from the poster on the board. He grinned at the others. “Are we in, or are we _in?”_

“I’m down,” Jace said immediately.

“Why not?” Clary shrugged.

Jonathan said nothing, his “scheming” grin answer enough.

Izzy and Alec, however, shook their heads. “We’re going to be out of town,” the former explained. “Another stupid family thing.”

When the Morgensterns’ eyes turned to him, Simon actually backed away. “No way am I getting involved. You Morgensterns are  _scary_. So’re you, Wayland.”

“So it’s just the four of us?” Jonathan grinned. “Just like old times, then.”

* * *

 

_Later that day_

“If we’re going to do this properly, we need a schnazzy name.” Jace popped another chip in his mouth, spraying crumbs everywhere.

“Ew, Jace.” Clary scrunched up her nose. “And no, we don’t need a name. That’s so incredibly lame.”

“Ashamed to be associated with us?” Jonathan teased. “It’s okay, little sis, I don’t blame you.”

“You know,” Sebastian said thoughtfully, “I think the teachers have a name for us.”

“All of us? Like, us and the Lightwoods and Simon, or…?”

“No, just the four of us. I mean, you and Izzy and Simon are probably something along the lines of ‘those troublemakers’”—she stuck out her tongue at him; he did the same—“but the four of us, we’re ‘The Quartet.’”

“The Quartet,” Jace repeated. “Classy.”

“Well, ‘Marauders’ is already taken,” Clary mused. “So unless we want to go full-on geek…”

Jace shuddered at the idea. “Let’s go with ‘The Quartet.’”

In later years, they wouldn’t remember what they ended up doing for the talent show. But they did remember that discussion, and the name stuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The (slightly) more complete version of this fic can be found under the same name on FFN, though existing chapters beyond these first two are still undergoing revision. 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://sailorvegeta13.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Middle School, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary and Simon have a falling out, thanks to the guys. Isabelle and Clary are still friends, though, and they finish middle school together on a high note.

_Beginning of Clary’s seventh grade year_

It was after school, and the Quartet was sprawled out around the Morgensterns’ living room. The TV was on and a bowl of popcorn (courtesy of Jocelyn) lay in the middle of the coffee table.

Suddenly Clary looked up from her English novel, determined to ask the question that had been on her mind for a while now. ( _Of Nightingales That Weep_  wasn’t all that interesting or appealing, and she needed a break.) “Do you guys remember we made that deal last year?”

“Which one?” Jonathan asked warily as Sebastian and Jace—who already knew where this discussion was going—exchanged a look.

“The one where if I didn’t bug you about letting me date until seventh grade, you’d think about it again?”

“Technically, you and Jace agreed to that. We didn’t.”

“Jonathan!”

“Fine, fine, I remember. What about it?”

Clary shot him an  _Oh come on_  look. “I’m a seventh grader now. So...?”

“Are we still talking about the same guy?” Jace wanted to know.

“No,” Clary admitted.

“There’s the issue,” Jace said. “The deal was  _if you still wanted to date_ that _guy._  If you’re asking about another guy, that’s a whole new ballgame.”

“You guys suck.”

“Give it another couple of weeks,” Jace hedged. “I’m betting you just met him?”

Reluctantly, Clary nodded. “Fine. Don’t think you’re getting out of discussing it again, though.”

* * *

 

It was later that week that inspiration struck. Jace and Sebastian had been boring over their project for multimedia class, just a few feet away from Clary and Simon, who were studying for a science test.

“Maybe that’s our solution,” Jace said quietly, watching them.

“Huh?” Sebastian looked up. He glanced at the pair, then back at his best friend. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“It’s not like we can’t all tell he likes her anyway.”

“We’d be doing him a favor, really.”

“Plus, it’d be easier to supervise them. He already knows us.”

“So we’re agreed then?”

A quick shared grin confirmed their agreement.

* * *

 

_The next week_

“You’ve  _got_  to be kidding me.” Needless to say, Clary was not pleased with their plan. 

“No, we're dead serious.” Both of Clary's brothers lounged against the kitchen counter, looking bored but earnest.

“Do you need me to say it again?” offered Jace. Without waiting for the girl's answer, he said, in an impressive imitation of Jonathan, “You can go on a date—but only with boys we've explicitly approved.”

Rolling her eyes, the redhead played along, repeating her answer of a few minutes ago. “By which you mean…?”

Now the elder twin interjected. “Simon.”

“Jonathan!” Clary shrieked, exactly as she had the first time.

“Clary,  _I_  agree with him.”

“No one asked you, Jace,” chorused all three Morgensterns.

* * *

 

Clary looked around the lunch table, sadly reflecting how empty it seemed without Jace and their older brothers. Speaking of…She turned to is. “So tell me, is it or is it not true that Alec’s got a boyfriend now?”

Grinning, Izzy sat up straighter. “It’s true. His name is Magnus Bane, he’s a junior, and he’s got an  _amazing_  style. A little heavy on the glitter, but he’s gotten Alec to wear actual colors.”

“Amazing,” Simon deadpanned.

“He seems happy,” Isabelle persisted, ignoring Simon (as she so often did). “Honestly, I wasn’t sure about Magnus at first. Alec’s first boyfriend and all that, plus he’s really weird. But I’ve never seen Alec so comfortable with his sexuality. Not that they’re making out all over the school or anything,” she hastened to add. “But he’s starting to work out how to come out to my parents, and he’s just more open than he used to be. I really think Magnus is good for him.”

“That’s great news.” Clary managed a smile. Pity that, thanks to her stupid brothers and their stupid best friend, she’d probably never meet a guy like that.

She looked over at Simon, who was chomping away (rather unattractively) on a sandwich. It didn’t bother her that he was a total dork, but she couldn’t imagine dating him. But the boys knew that; maybe if she agreed to this one stupid date, they’d see she was serious about wanting to date, and maybe they’d actually let her.

* * *

 

_A few weeks later_

Simon choked as he took in Clary's dress: lower-cut, shorter, and ultimately less innocent and more provocative than anything he'd ever seen his best friend wearing. “You look…”

“Trampy?” The redhead grinned, tucking a long, loose curl behind her ear. “It was all Isabelle's idea.”

“The hair doesn't really seem to go with it—”

“Oh, Isabelle put it up, but Jace—”

“—and I was going to say 'hot,' actually.”

“Sure you were. C'mon, Lewis, don't you know that girls prefer 'beautiful' to 'hot'?”

“Isabelle doesn't.”

Clary snorted. “Isabelle Lightwood is an exception to most rules pertaining to girls.”

“That's true. Anyway, shall we go?”

“I still can't believe I'm on a date. With  _you_  of all people.”

“Is there someone you'd rather go out with?” The bitterness in Simon's tone was surprising; Clary had expected him to agree with her, that the idea of them being a couple was unbelievably ludicrous.

“Not at all,” she hastened to reassure him. “It's just that you're my best friend, and it's super weird for me to think of you like that. Heck, I don't think I could ever  _like_  you in that way—I mean, I love you, Simon, but it's more in the same way that I love Jonathan and Sebastian.” She hesitated before adding, “And Jace.”

“Oh, really? So Golden Boy  _doesn't_  get you all hot and bothered?”

“Can we please not fight? Especially not over that douche?”

“Fine.” But her insulting Jace seemed to have put him in a slightly better mood. “Well, since we're on a date anyway, why not make the most of it? Y'know, go all-out as a couple and all that good stuff.”

“And by 'go all-out as a couple' you mean…?”

“If you're going to go on a date, you might as well get into it, don't you think?”

Clary shook her head. “Isn't that basically like leading people on?”

Simon bit his lip, thinking about her question. “No,” he finally said. “Because you might be surprised to find how much you both enjoy it.”

* * *

 

_That night_

“Where the hell is Jace Wayland? I swear I'm going to kill him!” As if to prove her point, Clary's handbag hit the ground with a loud  _thud_  disproportionate to its size. Angrily the redhead swung herself up onto the kitchen counter, swinging her short legs and secretly reveling in the satisfying  _bang_  of her feet punctuating every swing.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down.” “What happened, Clary?” Sebastian put aside his cell phone; Jonathan looked up from his favorite TV show.

“It was all his idea, wasn't it? The date with Simon?”

Lazily Jace emerged from Clary's room. “What makes you think that?”

“Because—wait a minute. What the hell were you doing in  _my room?_ ”

“Well, since you love me 'in the same way that you love Jonathan and Sebastian', doesn't it stand to reason that if they're allowed in your room, so am I?”

Her green eyes flashed. “Who told you that?”

“The logic behind that statement is completely my own, though it's so brilliant that I can understand why you wouldn't believe me capable of such intelligence.”

“Cut the bullcrap, Jace! I'm completely serious!”

“Didn't you know? We followed you on your date.”Calmly Jace crossed the living room to pour himself a glass of water. His movements were sure and casual, the natural product of his years spent practically living in the Morgensterns’ home. (Sometimes Jocelyn joked that they should just formally invite him to move in and have done with it.)

“Not funny, Jace. Especially considering it's all your fault that  _my best friend is no longer speaking to me!_ ”

He paused in the act of raising the glass to his lips. “Simon's not speaking to you?”

“Is that not what I just said?”

“Why not?”

“Let's just say we had a disagreement. Over the idea of us being a couple.”

Jace choked on his drink. “ _Excuse_  me?”

“Apparently he's been in love with me for years, but I was 'too blind to see it despite the most obvious clues'.” Horrified that she'd just revealed this to  _Jace Wayland,_  of all people, Clary snatched her purse from the ground and stomped past her brother's best friend. “I'm going to bed. You better have gotten the Spanish Inquisition out of your system before I come down tomorrow morning.”

“Not a chance. G’night, kid.”

“Don't call me ‘kid.’”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He grinned, watching her eyes soften and her tense muscles relax. “Good night, Clary.”

“Good night, Jace.”

He couldn't see her smile, but he knew it was there.

* * *

 

“So Simon’s out, then.” Izzy sighed. “Pity, that. Wanna talk about it?”

Clary shook her head morosely.

“Well, at least we can do the ‘just the girls’ thing now.”

Clary nodded without any real conviction.

Izzy sighed sympathetically. “So what else is new with the guys? Besides them being out to ruin your life?”

Clary shrugged.

“How about a girl’s night in?”

Another shrug.

“Sleepover? We can braid each other’s hair and do makeovers and stuff. Cecily showed me a ton of tricks I’ve been dying to try out.”

That got a small smile from Clary. “How about Friday? I’ll ask my mom.”

* * *

 

_Friday night_

“This,” Izzy announced, “is going to be our most epic sleepover yet.”

They’d done sleepovers before, of course, but the agenda for tonight was rather different than it had been in past years. (For one thing, there was no geeky Simon to appease, so Isabelle was free to  _girls night_  it up to her heart’s content.)

Dumping a variety of palettes, tubes, and brushes onto her carpet, Isabelle grinned. “So. Crash course for those illiterate in makeup. You’ve got your primers, foundations, BB creams, concealers, blushes, and bronzers. There’s eyebrow pencils and gels; eyeliner pencils, pens, and brushes; mascaras; and eye shadows. For lips you’ve got chapstick, though it doesn’t really count; tinted lip balms; lip glosses; lip liners; and lipsticks in various shades. Then for hair—”

“Let’s do this one thing at a time,” Clary suggested. “My brain’s still trying to process how many different things there are just for your  _eyes._ Or skin. Or lips.”

“Okay, here, how about I demonstrate?” Izzy beckoned her friend over to her full-length mirror, scooping up her various cosmetics.

An hour or so later, Clary was starting to get a general idea of what to do. “I never knew how much work goes into this stuff,” she admitted.

“Oh, yeah. But it’s fun.”

“I guess. I don’t think it’s really my thing—but hey, you do you.”

Izzy grinned. “Okay, now hair.”

Clary paused in the middle of selecting a lip gloss color. “Wait, do you do this every morning? Like every single day before school?”

“Not always.” Izzy grinned. “Sometimes I skip eyeliner, and a lot of the time I just use one shade of eye shadow. And I don’t always wear foundation, if I don’t need it—like if my skin’s not breaking out or if it’s hot out. Plus for some reason my parents are weird about lipstick, so typically—”

“Okay, but you do this mostly every day?”

She shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Clary whistled. “Impressive.”

Izzy laughed. “Well, with a bit of work you could learn to do it too.”

“No way.” Of course Clary had no way of knowing that, in a few years, she’d be eating her words. (Not that she’d start wearing makeup to school every day, though she gradually became more amenable to putting on some concealer and powder at least, and adding a swipe of tinted lip balm. But she would eventually become fairly well versed in makeup — but, at this point in time, it had yet to happen.)

Suddenly another thought struck her. “And you wash this off every night too?”

“Of course.” Izzy blinked. “Clary, do you not wash your face every night?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“Uh, yeah.” Izzy pointed to the pimple on her friend’s chin. “Why do you think my skin’s so clear most of the time?”

“I chalked it up to good genes.”

“Well, that’s definitely part of it. But really, you should wash your face every night! Hey, I’ve got a couple different cleansers you can borrow. Try ’em out, see if it makes a difference.”

Clary hesitated. She shared a bathroom with her brothers; what would they say when new facial products appeared in the communal cabinet? But then again, she hadn’t said anything when they started stocking up on razors and shaving cream—maybe they’d do her the same courtesy. “Okay.”

“Wait, but first let’s do hair—so you can see how awesome you’ll look with full hair and makeup. Then maybe you’ll sit still for me to pretty you up before parties.” Izzy grinned, already reaching for the hairbrush despite Clary’s protests that she didn’t plan on going to parties.

* * *

 

_Midnight ish_

Having finally washed their faces to get rid of their makeup—Clary was just thankful she’d managed to talk Izzy out of hair products by pointing out that tonight was just for demonstration purposes—the two girls were sprawled out on the airbed in their pajamas. (Izzy’s bedroom was unfairly huge, more than big enough to accommodate the inflatable mattress that they pulled out during sleepovers.)

“What do you wanna watch?” Izzy asked, logging into the family Netflix account.

“Something funny, maybe.” Clary considered the question as Izzy hooked her laptop up to the TV. “Oooh—since it’s girls’ night, let’s watch a chick flick. Limited time offer.”

Izzy grinned. “ _Yes._ ”

They ended up watching  _The Notebook_ , though it rather puzzled them why it was notorious for making girls cry. Sure, romance looked great and all, but it just didn’t seem very realistic.

“Okay, maybe not.” Izzy scrolled through their choices.

Seeing a favorite, Clary pounced. “Look—the Narnia movies.”

They exchanged a grin—they were outgrowing a lot of things, but there was no childishness-shaming on girls’ night, especially when it was just the two of them.

So instead of any semblance of romance, they sighed over talking animals and magical lands.

The boys would have made fun of them, but it  _was_  girls’ night.

* * *

 

_Last day of Clary’s 8th grade year_

“I think I’m actually nervous,” Clary confessed. She and Izzy were standing together, since graduation practice hadn’t really started yet. Once it did, they’d have to separate to meet up with their alphabetical neighbors—but until then, they could still talk.

“About graduating?” Izzy cast her friend a skeptical glance. “It’s not like this school was all that great. Plus, everyone knows graduation isn’t a big deal. Not from middle school.”

“Maybe it’s more the part where we’re  _starting high school_  in the fall,” Clary said.

Izzy nodded understandingly. “Yeah, that part’s got me too. It’s so cool—and we’ll get to go to actual parties and meet actually cool boys!”

At this, Clary shrugged. It wasn’t really the parties or the boys that intrigued her about high school, though she was definitely curious as to what it would be like to have an actual social life. (The guys didn’t count. They might have been “cool kids,” but the things they did definitely not the stuff of movies.) “Anyway, we’re going to the Grad Night celebration.”

“Yeah, but it’s a  _school dance,_ ” Izzy pointed out. “Middle school dances suck.”

“Maybe this one won’t,” Clary said, more jokingly than anything.

“Maybe. But if I were you, I’d bring something to keep busy.”

* * *

 

In the end, Isabelle was right. The dance sucked.

But in later years, Clary would remember not the cheap decorations or humdrum activities, but the blasting music and the cool breeze outside the gym at sunset, and the way Jace had complimented her dress and semi-fancy updo before the dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grad night was the only middle school dance I ever went to, and honestly I thought it kind of sucked. (Except for the fact that I got to wear a nice dress and hang out with friends in a slightly fancier setting than usual. This was back before I had a social life, so it was kind of a highlight of my middle school years.)
> 
> The makeup scene was inspired by a comment [lexiconicality](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lexiconicality), aka [terafonne](http://terafonne.tumblr.com/) made while we were getting ready for a guard competition. I may or may not be working on a full-fic version.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://sailorvegeta13.tumblr.com)!


End file.
